


Undeserved loyalties

by Insecuriosity



Series: Misc. ideas and story blurbs [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Betrayal, Crimes & Criminals, False Accusations, Other, Post-Betrayal, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insecuriosity/pseuds/Insecuriosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jetfire and Jetstorm are very loyal soldiers, but thinking is not their strongest point. When Longarm begins to give them secret missions, they enthusiastically agree, thinking they are going to be drafted into Spec Ops.</p><p>When Autobot command puts a bounty on their heads for the assassination of vital Autobot agents, they are left on their own. How do two ex-Autobots survive when they are unwilling to join the Decepticons, but banned from the Autobots?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Mission

Kaon city was a broken mess of old buildings and scarring from the war. It was the city of warbuilds, and it reflected in how many barracks and open fields there were – all mathematically placed like squares on a board.  
After all the flight-frames had been forcibly sent away from Cybertron, the place had become less of a city and more of a gathering place for mecha that needed to hide from acid rains or the law enforcement. With the energy grid disconnected, and the buildings JUST old enough so that breaking and entering was easily done, it made for a perfect criminal nesting place. 

On one of the most removed flightfields, right at the edge of Kaon’s official territory, two members of the Elite Guard escorted a mech into no-mans land. Their flashy paintjobs had garnered much attention in Kaon, but this far removed from the city, there was nobody watching anymore. 

“I thought missions was supposed to be more fun? Being to fly was good, but this walking is getting to be boring!” Jetfire said. He was idly pulling on his end of the prisoner’s chain, making the bot following behind them stumble a little every time he tugged a little too hard. The prisoner made no protest – he had a mouthclamp on.

“Mission is not so bad.” Jetstorm replied. “Sentinel Prime’s missions are being much worse than this. At least we got to flying this time. Longarm said we get rewards if we did mission right, so, maybe reward will be being more fun missions.”

“New missions would being nice – this is being too easy. Too boring.” Jetfire replied, tugging on the prisoner’s chain again. “They gives us flying, then not _let_ us be flying – is very frustrating.” 

“They be knowing what is the best.” Jetstorm said, and he came to a halt.  
They had reached the crumbling edge of the flight-field, and the Cybertronian wastes were stretching out in front of them. More importantly, a small guard post with camouflaged paints had become visible to the optic.

“Oh, look, it is being the safe house!” Jetstorm called out gleefully. 

“Finally!” His twin replied, and both of them set forwards, dragging their prisoner along. 

The small building was dusty and worn down, but the doorlock was perfectly up to date and heavily encripted. On the inside was just a stark empty room with a single terminal and a closet, also locked. A safehouse, normally used by agents of the Black Ops devision of the army. 

Jetstorm walked over to the terminal. “Now is quiet time – time for report giving.”

“Yes. I am really be hoping that it will not be taking long.” Jetfire huffed as he pushed the prisoner to his knees.

Jetstorm fiddled with the old panel and fed it the secured code of the head of Intel of the Autobots. With a short flicker of static, and a startup call, Longarm became visible on the screen.

“Ah. Jetfire, Jetstorm. Good to hear from you… And I see you have returned with the Decepticon informant!” He said.

The twins saluted. “Sir, yes, sir Longarm Prime sir!”

“We took him, and be bringing him here to call you, just like Longarm Prime said for us to do.” Jetstorm gestured towards his twin, and Jetfire brought the prisoner towards the camera. They had taken him from a weird bar, hidden in an old hospital structure, and it showed. The bot still had an employee’s badge magnetised to his shoulder.

“Very good.” Longarm said. “I feared that we would be too late in capturing him, especially with both Jazz and Blurr still off-planet… Jetstorm, please remove his mouthclamp and then keep your silence I want to speak to him alone. ” Jetstorm gave a quick salute and unscrewed the muting device.

The bot let out a burst of static, coughing excess lubricant from his intake, and then looked at Longarm. “Longarm Prime, sir- I think there’s been a mistake.”

“Has there been?” Longarm’s voice was icy cold, and both of the twins snapped to attention almost as soon as his tone registered. That was not the kind of voice that was disobeyed. 

“I-…” The bot seemed stricken for a moment, and he frowned. “Yes – yes there has been. I’m one of your agents! Agent 339UT! I sent you reports – we spoke right after you took Highbrow’s position!” 

“Yes. You did send me reports. Reports with _incorrect_ information.” Longarm said. The prisoner looked about to protest, but Longarm was quicker. “A forgivable transgression, I know. In your line of work, it is not easy to find the correct information…. But don’t think that I did not realise that you sent your reports to the Magnus as well.”

“I-…” 

“Do you realise the kind of destruction you could have created?! Your information was _wrong_ , but the Magnus chose to believe your report over mine. It could risk everything that I- WE have worked for!” 

Tensions were running high. Jetfire and Jetstorm were both feeling the first twinges of pain from their backstrut as they kept standing at attention, but neither dared to relax. Longarm’s voice demanded alertness.  
The prisoner was quiet for a bit, and he looked terribly confused. Jetfire could relate – these kinds of things often went over his head too. 

“You-… It wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t wrong! I counted every bot myself, I hacked into Barsteel’s _processor_ for that information-!” As the mech spoke, Jetstorm could hear his voice go from confusion to a slowly settling horror. He grabbed onto the mech’s chains a little harder, just in case he would try to do something.  
“Sir…” The bot stared at Longarm’s face on the console. “I… You are the mole, aren’t you? You are a Decepticon!”

That was quite the accusation. Jetstorm and Jetfire both stared at Longarm’s pixelated face on the screen. Longarm let out a soft sigh, closing his optics and shaking his head. “Accusing me is not going to help you, Agent. You’ve made your choices. It is time to face their consequences.” 

Jetfire almost fell over when the prisoner pulled at his chains. “You two – undo the chains. We have to stop him!” 

“Uh…” Jetfire looked uncomfortable, and he glanced at Jetstorm. His brother didn’t look like he understood either. “No?”

“You are being our prisoner.” Jetstorm said. 

“Listen – turn off the feed, and I’ll tell you everything.” The mech continued, and he began wriggling inside of the chains again. “Oh Primus, he’s been feeding wrong information to the Magnus – for how long…? I have proof of my identity back at the inn where you arrested me- I’m not a traitor. We’ll have to find a way to come into contact with the Magnus – or Agent Blurr- ”

The problem was, Jetstorm reflected, that the mech sounded so convinced of his own story – and so desperate to be believed. It made him uncomfortable.

“Jetfire, Jetstorm.” Longarm spoke through the prisoner’s tirade. “Put the clamp back. I know enough…”

They were all too happy to obey, and they stuffed the clamp back over the bot’s face as his begging turned more pleading and loud. The silence was a relief. 

“What crazy words you be saying.” Jetstorm chuckled at the bot. “Longarm Prime sir is not being a spy! You might be being brainwashed by the bad Decepticons!”

“Or, brother, he might be trying to do the brainwashing on us with his words.” Jetfire added. 

“I have one last task for you, before you have successfully finished your mission.” Longarm said. “Jetfire, Jetstorm, I am depending on you to get rid of the traitor.”

“Of course sir.” Jetstorm said.  
“We will be bringing him to Stockade sir!” Jetfire continued. 

“Ah, no, that is not precisely what I meant.” Longarm said. As if on cue, their prisoner began to struggle harder in his binds. “For your mission to be truly finished, I will need for you to kill him, and get rid of the evidence.”

Silence. Jetfire and Jetstorm looked at each other, both of them unsure and looking for an answer in their twin. Wasn’t it the gist of the Elite Guard code that every bot was to be subdued, and only killed if there was no other option? 

“Jetfire. Jetstorm.” Longarm continued, and there was a warning in his tone that made their backstruts snap straight. “Those were orders, in case you did not realise.”

“Oh!”Jetfire nodded. “Of course sir, sorry sir! We are being very good at following orders!”  
Jetstorm nodded as well. “Not a peep anymore from betrayer bot. It is promise!” 

Longarm inclined his head. “I hope you will forgive me for wanting to observe.” He said.

“Of course sir Longarm Prime sir!”  
“Yes sir Longarm Prime sir!”

“Good.”

There were no more words to be traded – questions would only complicate things. Jetstorm held the prisoner still and Jetfire took aim at the bot's trembling chestplate. It took a while for his weapons to really fire up.  
The prisoner’s pedes drew scratches on the floor as he struggled, and Jetfire hesitated as his weapons pinged him that they were ready to fire. 

“Until all are into one.” Jetstorm mumbled, and Jetfire sent him a small smile. 

He shot, and scorching white flames landed on the mech's armour. The mech struggled, and Jetfire could see bits of molten metal dripping to the floor, where they turned an ugly slag-grey. When Jetfire stopped, the traitor's frame was grey, with a molten hole right where his spark would have been beforehand.  
Jetstorm looked a little disgusted, and Jetfire could relate. The sight was quite bad. None the less, they turned to Longarm’s face on the screen and saluted.

“Good job.” Longarm said. “Sentinel was very right to recommend you. Make sure that nobody will find the frame – I will leave it up to you how to do that. You can return afterwards – there will be no need to debrief this time.”

The jets nodded simultaneously, and they saluted. “Yes sir!”

Longarm’s face disappeared from the terminal – the call over.

“That was…” Jetstorm began.

“Mission was not being as I expected.” Jetfire said. “Traitor bot did not fight.”

“Not in fun way, anyway.” Jetstorm agreed, he looked at the body on the floor behind them. “What we be going to do with body?”

“Er… Maybe we bury?” Neither of the twins had never thought about what happened to bodies. In a battle, they were usually just left on the ground, or taken apart for parts. 

“We do not be having any dig-things brother. It would be taking all day, and we would be missing Sentinel and flying time.” Jetstorm replied, and he looked at the molten hole on the bot’s chest. “Bot is really slagged… Maybe we could be melting rest of bot too.”

“Oh.” Jetfire did not look enthusiastic. “That is good plan… but I only do it if you help. I am not be doing all the work!”

Jetstorm agreed, and they dragged the body out of the safehouse, behind an outcropping of metal. The combination of Jetstorm’s win and Jetfire’s flames made the body warp and melt in just moments, the mech-like properties fading away until there was just a vague humanoid-shape lying in the inferno. On occasion, the mech’s energonlines would pop, and small bursts of energon would ignite, making a popping sound not unlike baked goodies in an oven.  
They didn’t stop until that too had disappeared. The mech had been turned into a puddle of slag, and for good measure, Jetstorm placed a random piece of metal over it to keep it from view. 

They were silent as they transformed and took off, heading back towards Iacon. 

“I do not think I am liking mission very much.” Jetfire said, once the barren fields of Kaon had disappeared behind them. “Was boring.”

Jetstorm knew what his twin meant. Most of the mecha they fought actually fought back, instead of just… taking it.  
“It was being necessary, brother.” He replied, and he flew in closer to flick his wingtip against his brother’s nosecone. “Is like Sentinel Prime and Perceptor sir keeps to be saying; war is not being only fighting and fun. War is also hurting people, for making it safe to other, more GOOD people.”

“Yes” Jetfire nodded. “Traitor bot was going to be hurting the people who are good. He would have being hurting Perceptor sir, or Sentinel Prime sir, or Red Alert sir.”

Jetstorm choked on a laugh. “Red Alert SIR? Is you be needings optical tweaks brother?”

“It is not me that has being the visor!” Jetfire shot back, and he flicked his own wing at Jetstorm. The blue mech dodged, and let himself twirl around before shooting off. 

Mission already fading into the back of their minds, Jetfire chased after Jetstorm, eager to even out their score.  
When they arrived back home, Jetstorm had managed to keep his nosecone-flick lead, and when Perceptor found them in the mess hall, they were debating on whether Jetstorm’s first flick counted or not. 

Life as usual.


	2. Red Alert checks up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Alert inspects Project Safeguard, and learns something unexpected.

There were days that Red Alert wished there were more medics of her skill. With her right hand still aching from a long operation, and driving over an annoyingly busy road, the last thing she wanted to do was check in on Perceptor and Wheeljack with their ‘project’. As far as she was concerned, both parts of ‘operation Safeguard’ were healthy, and no longer in need of medical assistance.   
Perceptor disagreed. Perceptor was in the Council, and Perceptor felt no shame in using his influence for his own gain. So, every day, around the time when most mecha would be having their midday refuel, Red Alert had to leave Iacon hospital to check the same unchanging charts over and over again. 

Back when Wheeljack and Perceptor had been constantly ‘updating’ the twins and reloading modded version of Decepticon code into their brainmodules, her expertise had been necessary. The both of them were more scientist than they were medical experts, and their original drafts for Project Safeguard would have killed any mech stupid enough to volunteer.  
What kind of things were misfiring in Wheeljack’s brain to come up with a concept like combining two mecha into one? Who mentioned the idea of then adding Decepticon coding into them on top of that?! 

The two scientists had proven their skill though – Project Safeguard had been finished, and it was doing better than anyone had expected. Red Alert had thought that the twins would perhaps need some form of councelling after their near-death experience, but the two mecha fell into their new role as if it had been forged for them.  
Perhaps that was why Perceptor was so intent on keeping her tied to the project? Maybe he was still expecting it to go wrong somehow, and he wanted her to keep an eye her parts of the project. 

Red Alert would have found his trust in her endearing, if he also trusted her when she told him that NOTHING was wrong!  
These solar cycles the check ups were mundane enough that nurses could do them with their eyes closed, but Perceptor refused to let her step off the project. His iron will had become an Ununtrium will after his little ‘self-improvement’.

The only silver lining to that acid stormcloud was that Red Alert no longer had to keep a check on her words around him. There was no longer anything that could be said to hurt him. 

She rolled to a stop outside of Perceptor’s lab, and marched her way to the entrance. Perceptor’s lab was probably the best-funded building on Cybertron to unofficially belong to a singular mech, and it showed. A frame scan and a deeper protoform-scan washed over her before the entrance doors opened, and a single commlink message dropped into her queue to inform her about everything that Perceptor felt she needed to know. 

// Duties expected from [RED ALERT] on this date (SolC 65, Q 13, StelC 3.002.89 ) in order; //  
//Common health check-up on compartments J1 and J2 of Pr. Safeguard. – Room 23 //  
//Reviewing request of patient [PERCEPTOR] to change prognosis and treatment – Room 3/Commlink communication // 

Business as usual. Red Alert offlined her optics and walked towards Room 23, already deleting the second message. She was fairly certain that at least half of her deleted files were just from Perceptor, and his attempts to weasel out of his therapy.  
After what Perceptor had knowingly done to himself it was going to take more than a simple request before Red Alert would let him ditch therapy, but that was evidently not stopping him from trying. It probably wouldn’t be long before he succeeded. His therapist, or rather his third therapist, was reporting a dead end in the treatment. 

There was simply nothing to work with – not even a starting point. Perceptor didn’t have a problem. The Perceptor that had had a deep psychological problem had forcibly deleted parts of his personality, and now there was just this blank slate of a mech borrowing his life and face. 

Already feeling weary, Red Alert sighed and entered the first of three protective layers around room 23. The tingle of an ID scan opened the first door, giving access to a small recording-office where carefully picked and edited footage of the ‘project Safeguard’ was stored.  
The second door had a size/shape/weight assessment tied to it, matching Red Alert’s ID to her frame with decimal precision. A security measure made necessary by war and paranoia. Rumours of Decepticon triple changers taking a second root mode instead of a second alt.

With a ping, the second set of doors opened. The third door, made out of heavy duty steel and more layers than any Autobot could break through, opened automatically. In the early days of the project, it had been programmed to be impossible to open from the inside. Just in case the Decepticon coding in the twins took a turn for the worst. 

These days, only thing keeping the twins here instead of at the Elite Guard barracks was Perceptor and whatever plan he had for the project. 

Red Alert reached the last door, and braced herself. The twins had a tendency of trying to cheer her up if she appeared too haggard, and she did not feel like wasting her time. 

The heavy blast doors slid open, and Red Alert entered the twin’s living space. An immediate scent of heated paint and slag assaulted her senses, and her feet kicked through a thin layer of discarded toys and garbage as she marched into the room.   
The twins themselves were wrestling with each other in the middle of the room, their flight engines ( or simply Jetstorm’s added abilities ) kicking up a lacklustre whirlwind of garbage around the room. 

“Jetstorm, Jetfire. At attention! It is time for your bi-solar check up.” Red Alert barked. 

“AH! It is being good morning, Alert of Red!” Jetstorm said. He was currently on top in battling his twin, muffling Jetfire’s greeting in a cushion. “No need for check up is what me is thinking- I am being in top of the condition wi-”  
An orange hand cut him off midsentence, and in a flurry of movement Jetfire had reversed their positions. 

“-being my turn to say hello’s to the Red of Alert!” Jetfire admonished his brother, and he threw a cheerful smile in Red Alert’s direction, before immediately going back to subduing his struggling split spark. “I does -oomfp!- agree that, conditioning has been being okay for us! And testing always being so boring.”

“Whe Sstronk-.” Jetstorm added, even as he tried to spit out his twin’s fingers. “Dhon’t be nheeding sscheck-ahp.”

If these had been regular Autobot younglings, Red Alert would have intervened by simply grabbing them by the scruff of their backplating and giving them a quick scodling, but the Jettwins were nothing like regular younglings.   
Whether it was just the way they had come online, or the way that the Decepticon coding had nestled into their brainmodules, the twins simply couldn’t seem to listen to orders until someone brought in some manner of physical punishment. 

Well, that was not completely fair. They listened to _Sentinel Prime_ of all mecha, but if Red Alert had to call in Sentinel Prime for every time the twins ignored her, she was going to drive herself into an early offlining.   
At the very least, the twins made her feel better about her choice to keep her left arm as an EMP gun. 

With an ominous snap of electricity she fired it up, preparing herself to jab it at the wrestling twins. “At attention, NOW!” She barked out, and the two mecha immediately scrambled into a salute. “I am just as tired of these check-ups as you are but they WILL be performed and you will not waste time. 

“Yes, sir Red Alert sir.” They said in unison. 

Red Alert watched them for a moment, and then let the energy from her EMP gun disperse. “Now then, take your positions and copy your self-diagnostic results onto these datapads. And if I catch you throwing the datapads I will both shock you AND bring in Sentinel Prime for your punishment!”

“Red Alert sir is beings in bad moods.” Jetfire jibed, even as he took the datapad she offered him and plugged himself in. “Me and brother are always the behaving!” 

Jetstorm bit off a chuckle. 

Red Alert didn’t deign to reply to them, and instead focused on running through the routine she had built up. The faster she was done, the faster she could return to her midday fuel and dealing with Perceptor. As she had expected, there were no changes of any significance. Their reprogrammed coding looked stable, just as it had looked in the last three decacycles, and all of their new body parts had integrated a long time ago.  
She had them combine into Safeguard, who was similarly unchanged and in perfect shape. Well, as perfect as an amalgamation of two mecha could be, she supposed. For how loud and noisy Jetfire and Jetstorm were, Safeguard was mostly antsy and quiet. Red Alert always felt like the combiner was having an injoke with the way he giggled to himself, but he was healthy and coherent. 

If it wasn’t for the lack of knowledge surrounding Decepticon coding, the twins likely would have been brought to the public already. At a glance they passed very well for regular Autobots, but they were impossible to keep out of the air – with or without the use of heavy weaponry. 

“Does Red Alert knowings if we will be having a mission again soon?” Jetstorm asked. “This place is being boring to be in for long times.”

Red Alert frowned, and met Jetstorm’s visor. “I was not aware that you had gone on any missions, outside of accompanying Sentinel Prime.” 

“Oh yes!” Jetstorm beamed. “Longarm Prime be requesting our help for the spyinks and Secret things! Sentinel Prime has been doing busy – and he no longer being answering to his commlinks.”

“Mission was not being very fun.” Jetfire added sullenly. “Very boring, too much talkings and walkings and waiting…. But me and brother could fly back to base all the way! Very fun, and I won race!” 

“Brother is lying, I won race very easily.” Jetstorm said. “And mission was better than staying in room. We was being helpful Autobots for Cybertron!”

“Is that what he said?” Red Alert mumbled to herself. She had no dislike or like for Longarm Prime, but she did have a history with his department. The mecha that were chosen to work in Spec Ops were either damaged in their empathy modules, or had it forcibly trained into them.   
Unless Longarm was thinking to make the twins into literal weapons or part of his division, there was no reason for him to get his servos on the,

“Did he mention wanting you to work for his department more?” 

“He be very vague. It is being a spy thing.” Jetstorm said. “Important job was done, that is all that ‘publical mecha’ need to know.”

“It is said as ‘the generalistic public’, stupid.” Jetfire replied. “And Longarm is not tell us because Brother cannot keep secrets.”

“Oh? I cannot be keeping secrets?” Jetstorm grinned. “I guess I cannot be helping but tell Red of the Alert about the thing you is keeping un-“

“SUSSH!” Jetfire jumped on top of Jetstorm in the blink of an eye, and Red Alert watched tiredly as the two continued their wrestling. 

Would it be worth interrupting them again to pry a little more information from them…? She knew better than to start asking Longarm what kind of mission he’d sent them on. Spec Ops had an annoying habit of supplying very convincing fibs whenever someone asked them what they were up to. Secret missions were ‘patrols’. Assasinations were ‘tests’. And, of course, the only person that his department answered to was the Magnus. 

Distractedly she sent a redacted copy of the test results to the twins for their safekeeping, and headed out of the room. The distracted and well-meant goodbye of the twins was cut off halfway as the door slid shut behind her. 

Did Perceptor know that the twins had been sent out on a Spec Ops mission? If he did, she doubted that Longarm let him know exactly what the mission was about. And if it had been a regular training mission, why would Longarm Prime have gotten the lead? What was his stake in testing the abilities of the twins? Why would Perceptor agree?   
It just didn’t fit – there was something wrong, something off-… She had to dig to the bottom of this. Contact Perceptor, Wheeljack, the Magnus- she would have to pick the right order to assure the least amounts of suspicion from Longarm, while also keeping an optic out for possible reprogramming on Perceptor-…

She paused in the hallway, and carefully massaged her forehead with the unwieldy bulk of her EMP gun. It was trembling.   
“No.” She said softly to herself. “It’s not my job nor my responsibility to conduct intense research. I have my responsibilities, and my colleagues have their responsibilities. I can trust them to do their job.”

She took a long invent, and then let it seep out of her. Continuing her trek down the hallway, she shortened the length of her ‘dig-to-the-bottom’ plan.   
She would talk to Percy, and see what he knew about Longarm’s little ‘borrowing’ of Project Safeguard. If that conversation rang some alarm bells, she would contact the Magnus, and further discuss things with Wheeljack and Perceptor. If she was still worried after that, she would contact her therapist Analyse, and ask her for the next step. 

A few more calming invents later, Red Alert felt calm enough to continue on her way out. She had her patients waiting on her back at the hospital, and she had to hurry if she wanted to grab a quick cube before the first appointment. Nobody was going to be helped if she ran herself into the ground looking into some slightly suspicios happenings.

Most likely, there was nothing to be worried about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very much hoped you enjoyed this chapter. It took a lot out of me to create it, and I hope it satisfies! 
> 
> This chapter was the winner of a poll on which fic I should start or update, and there is a new Poll that you can vote on starting today! You can vote until the 13th of September, and the winner will be posted on AO3 and my writingblog on the 11th of October! 
> 
> Vote here: https://goo.gl/fypKDf
> 
> My writing blog; Insecwrites.tumblr.com


	3. Longarm Prime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I look at the boring, regular life of undercover agent Longarm.

It paid to come in early on a day’s work, Shockwave reflected as he walked past the guardsmecha installed outside of his office building. The roads were less cluttered with mecha, the energon machine was not yet bogged down by a long row of mecha yearning for a on-the-clock free snack, and he got a chance to review his work in quiet and peace, right before the inevitable rush of calls, emails, reports meetings, and other miscellaneous things that had to be done.  
With a quick ping to Cliffjumper, he collected his working datapad and all of the work on it. Cliffjumper himself looked barely awake, and did not return his ping outside of a long baleful glare. 

In blissful silence, Shockwave unlocked his office door and took a seat behind his desk. Despite the number of messages waiting to be reviewed and the amount of reports to reply to, Shockwave was looking at a rather calm few decacycles.   
Not for a lack of spying to be done, but rather because the metal under his pedes was becoming too hot to stand on. Because certain mistakes he’d thought to be resolved had popped up their head again like a stubborn Insecticon infestation. 

Yestercycle’s news messages about Wasp’s escape and a flash of blue sped through Shockwave’s mind, and his spark felt like it shrank inside of his frame.   
Those issues had been resolved, he reminded himself. Wasp was insane and had no evidence to point his way. Agent Blurr -…. Well, he had never checked the incinerator personally, but there was very little the mech could do in his current state. Even if he was alive. 

Shockwave offlined his optic, and took a calming invent. Until someone actually tried to get him arrested or investigated, there was nothing he could do. Or rather, there was nothing he _should_ do. An active spy was always better than a wounded soldier. 

He softly let his plating expand as far as he dared to, and stretched out his arms and legs. The soft sounds of grease-deposits in his joints being smoothed over by his stretching was calming, as were the typical office sounds that he could hear through his office door.   
He would simply have to be a little more careful, and a bit less pro-active. It would not be long before Megatron had new orders for him, and until then he simply had to hold out. Perhaps withdraw his hold one the more… risk-filled project he’d had his optic on. 

Even though he’d never had a mouth before adopting Longarm as an altmode, a smile came naturally to him now. It was going to be a pity to stop playing with Project Safeguard.   
It had been so alarming to know that the Autobots had been experimenting with warframe coding – especially once he’d gotten to the subsection that explained the mechanics of ‘combining’, but his worries had been for naught. 

As much as a scientific marvel the two bots were, the Autobots were too paranoid to make proper use of them. It was painfully obvious that a few million vorns of Autobot rule had diluted any knowledge of warframes, except for how to kill and disable them. They had no clue of how loyalty worked in tandem with warframe coding, or how to instill obedience in mecha coded to only be loyal to a proven leader.   
If Sentinel Prime had not come along, Shockwave doubted that anyone could have gotten the twins to listen. The project would have been cancelled after several bouts of ‘undue aggression’ and ‘dominant unruly behaviour’. Similar to the Omega warriors, any future experiments with warcoding would be more like drones than mecha. 

It had been a stroke of luck that it was Sentinel they had imprinted on. He cared little for reports and semantics. All Shockwave had to do to steer the two little jet-bots was mention that his orders had come through Sentinel. Neither of the two had been experienced enough with deception to suspect anything – another wonderful mistake that the Autobots had left him to exploit.   
Sadly, they were a risky endeavour. As useful as they had been up until this point, he would have to cut them loose. Not a very difficult task, thankfully. A simple ‘Sentinel Prime’s orders’ tacked on the end of anything he said would be enough to convince them.

Suitably calmed for a day of reports and menial office talk, Shockwave powered on his datapad. Whatever sense of calm he’d gained from his morning routine shrank away as his optics skimmed over his schedule.

There weren’t many mecha that could clear his schedule as they pleased. Only the Council and the Magnus had that power, and clearly, one of them had decided to exercise his iron grip over the lesser mecha in Autobot society.   
All of his appointments had been cancelled. No matter if they were due in several decacycles or a vorn, all of them were gone. There was only one appointment left, scheduled for the next day, and ominously titled ‘please check inbox’. Shockwave toppled his chair as he hurried to the window, scanning the outside for the tell-tale glint of enforcer badges. The streets looked the same as always, but it did very little to calm his nerves. 

He couldn’t afford the attention from the Council. He’d worked so hard to keep Longarm’s record spotless and boring -!   
He turned to his inbox, and waited for the slow office connection to update his inbox. As a direct contrast to the usual deluge of messages and reports he was expected to deal with, there was only one new message, from Councilmember Perceptor. 

//I was informed of unauthorised usage and meddling of Project Safeguard. Confirmed via multiple sources, colleagues and I have vouched for necessity of integrity check on position Spec Ops head Longarm Prime. // The message stated, as dry-cut and unpleasant as the voice of the mech himself. //Access to Spec Ops schedule, inbox, and files is withdrawn until the integrity check is completed. All agents currently in field will be contacted and handled by Cliffjumper until further notice.// 

And there it was, probably the only thing that he would not be able to fib his way around. As soon as Cliffjumped started trying to come into contact with the Autobot agents in the field, it would become clear that Longarm had been falsifying reports.   
Was there time to contact Megatron? Oh, he was kidding himself, there was no longer any chance that an outgoing signal would be seen as contact with an agent – his access rights had been revoked. He was living on borrowed time. 

He did not have to read the rest of the message- he was very familiar with the proceedings. Banned from space and ground bridge transportation and under city-arrest, he would be expected to stay at home and prepare to plead his case.  
Shockwave stood up and marched to the door, stomping violently enough to leave ugly scuffmarks on the floor. Stalking past Cliffjumper and the guards, onto the road, he forced his panic down until it was merely a ball of acid in his tank. 

These were the final moments of his play. In a cycle or less, depending on Cliffjumper’s efficiency in contacting field operatives, his position would be too damaged to work with. 

Shockwave pushed his engine just a few miles above the speedlimit. 

He could arrange a meeting with the Magnus – it would not appear out of character to go to Ultra for a renouncement of the investigation. It wouldn’t go through – not with Autobot paranoia, but it could get him close to the Magnus. If he’d be able to get out with his life intact was another thing.  
He could go a more destructive route, perhaps create a distraction as a cover… but it would only buy him enough time to escape with his life and perhaps two folders of intel. With his access to the net cut off, even that seemed unlikely. 

The destruction of one of the weapon projects would be a valuable win, but Jetfire and Jetstorm were not thick enough to let him plant bombs in their lab – and Perceptor would be there, undoubtedly guarding his precious project.   
On that thought, killing Perceptor would be a good choice as well, if only those two misshapen warframes weren’t locked up in the same space! There was no guarantee he would manage to find Perceptor before the mech called security, or set up the twins against him. He could easily kill the two younglings, but they were just the first prototype of what Perceptor was planning. 

He could also simply escape. Go underground and disappear – take on life as an ID-less mech in the dead ends on Iacon and Rodion. Living off handouts and slowly losing any and all relevance to the Decepticon cause as his intel became outdated-… 

A red light turned on in his path, and Shockwave forced himself into a stop at the last second, leaving the nose of his vehicle mode only a few inches away from the bot in front of him. 

Shockwave let his mind be blank for a moment, focusing on the feel of metal beneath his treads and the sound of idling engines around him. He knew himself – and he knew that he made bad decisions once panic got a hold.   
Blowing hot air out between his seams, and letting his crane stretch out a little higher than it rightfully should be able to, Shockwave waited for his lane to start moving again. It took a few moments – long enough that the speedster next to him began revving and hiccupping his engine in impatience - but by the time the wheels around him started rolling, Shockwave had quieted his inner panic. 

By the time he walked into his habsuite and poured himself a warm cube of energon, he had already made a plan. 

If all went well, he’d be getting the best of all worlds – the destruction of project Safeguard included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one... was not easy. I spend all month struggling to make this chapter work, and eventually had to scrap all I'd made just 7 days before the deadline. I pushed the deadline to today, and I've finally finished it. My next project will be a halloween-themed story, hopefully posted around Halloween :) Have fun everyone! 
> 
> Visit my writingblog, Insecwrites.tumblr.com, for weekly headcanon posts, fanfic ideas, and polls on which fic I should write!

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older story that I found and reworked into something more interesting. Updates will be slow.


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